


Rediscoveries

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Community: avengers_tables, F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their powers may be new, but their love is the same, and Wanda will not allow Pietro to shy away from it out of fear for her safety. After all, she is <i>always</i> safest when she is in his arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rediscoveries

**Author's Note:**

> Character spoilers for _Avengers: Age Of Ultron_. Set before _Avengers: Age Of Ultron_. Written for [Avengers Tables](http://avengers-tables.livejournal.com/), prompt "power", and for [Avenger Kink](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com), [prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/20598.html?thread=50369654#t50369654) "Pietro/Wanda, established relationship Maxicest in which they've already had sex before, but this is the first time since they got their powers from the Hydra experiments".

Her fingers are in Pietro’s hair, stroking it from his face. His eyes are downcast, and he catches Wanda’s wrists in his hands, painfully gentle.

“We can’t,” he says, sounding quiet and sad. “It is …” He licks his lips anxiously, gaze flickering around the room but avoiding meeting Wanda’s own. “It is _different_ now.”

Wanda’s hands slide lower, thumbs against the shells of his ears. Getting a light grip there and tugging until he’s forced to tilt his head, until he’s forced to _look_ at her.

“You are not different,” she insists, and he tries to glance away again, but she shifts, puts herself in his line of sight wherever he turns, still with her careful hold on his ears. “ _We_ are not different.”

She can see how much he _wants_ this, how much it’s hurting him to deny her. 

Wanda will not let her brother hurt himself, not for her sake.

She presses one hand over his chest, firm against his heart. It beats faster now, a steady thrum even when he’s still, but the pulse reminds her of the way it would beat before the experiments when he was excited, when he was happy or scared or full of love for her.

“Still the same,” she promises, and Pietro stares at her, stares _into_ her, and Wanda knows the very moment she has his acceptance.

“If I am hurting you?” he asks, an arm moving about her waist, pulling her closer.

He could _never_.

“I will tell you,” she says, and he bows his head, presses their foreheads together.

A curl of Wanda’s fingers, a flicker of red light, and the small foil square of the condom drifts across the room into her outstretched palm.

“Now you are just showing off,” Pietro snorts, and his laughter is an exhale of warm air across Wanda’s lips.

He undresses her slowly, far more slowly than she would like, and Wanda lets her impatience show in the way she drags his t-shirt over his head, the way she kicks her boots across the room. She _does_ understand his hesitance, because this will be the first time they have touched each other like this since HYDRA, since the changes, and no matter how much trust there is between them, there is now danger as well.

They’ve worked hard, practising with their new powers, adapting. But they’ve both witnessed each other’s struggles; Pietro’s early difficulties with lapsing in and out of superspeed without warning, the destruction of every object Wanda tried to manipulate.

They’ve moved past that, though. And Wanda simply _cannot_ wait any longer.

Pietro’s lips press to her bare shoulder, and Wanda’s head tips back, inviting him to explore the column of her throat.

She has _missed_ his mouth upon her.

He lays her back against the bed as if she is fragile, and Wanda fidgets restlessly, wanting _more_. Pulling him into the embrace of her body, gripping his ears again but far more firmly this time, and he grins and clicks his tongue at her, shaking his head playfully when she releases him. Wanda wraps her legs around his waist, feeling the slide of his cock within the hollow of her hip, the tip of it slick against her skin.

Pietro sucks in a breath, hands pressing down into the mattress on either side of her head.

She pulls away when he doesn’t move, shuffling back a little, but only so she can reach between his legs. Condom pinched between her fingers, and she moves to slide it over his skin, and Pietro _still_ isn’t moving, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

And then his hand is snapping out, holding her wrist away from him, and Wanda realises he is _shaking_.

His mouth is slack, his breathing desperately uneven. It is an expression she knows well, and her heart trips over itself to see it so soon.

“Already?” she gasps, and her voice sounds awed even to her own ears, but Pietro curls in on himself, looking at her with something like embarrassment.

Wanda wraps an arm around his neck, straddles his thigh. He is her brother and she loves him and they have endured so much together. He must know he _never_ need feel shame when he is with her.

“It has to be fast, I understand,” she says, soothingly. It makes sense, that Pietro would grow so wound up so quickly. Wanda can’t imagine how long every moment must stretch out for him, how slowed down and _intense_ every touch must be.

She leans closer, her lips to his ear, and Pietro clings to her, one knee drawn up to his chest, eyes huge and glassy.

“I want you to come inside of me,” Wanda murmurs, and Pietro makes a soft, hungry noise, burying his face in her neck. “But first, you will come _on_ me.”

She barely has her fingers wrapped around his cock before she feels the pulse of it, thick and hot and hard against her palm, and his release spatters up her side.

She kisses his temple, rocks him a little as he shudders, the way she does when it is his nightmares that wake them first instead of hers.

“I told you it was different,” he mumbles finally, voice muffled against her hair.

Wanda tilts her head, thoughtful. “Different, but _better_ ,” she considers, and he looks up at her where she straddles him, his pupils dilated. “You can go again?”

Pietro nods slowly, and Wanda kisses him, soft and lingering. 

“Show me,” she says, and the words get her a spark of Pietro’s usual arrogance, a smirk that is well known to her as he tumbles her back to the mattress. More confident, now the edge has been taken off, now Wanda has not rejected him for the ways his body has changed.

As if she would _ever_ reject him.

He rolls the condom on to himself, biting his lip in concentration. So sweet, and Wanda nudges their feet together in a tangle, spreads her thighs for him, drags one of his hands to her breast and bites the fingers of the other.

When he slides inside of her, she feels weightless, breathless, _perfect_ , and the bed begins to levitate without her permission.

Pietro blinks in surprise when the walls move around them, but Wanda writhes beneath him, her cunt clenching down on him, wet and _throbbing_ , and his attention snaps back to her, fingers digging into her hip.

He fucks her, carefully slow and _deep_ , with the same reverence he has always touched her with. Their hands lace together, faces close enough to breathe each other’s air. For everything they have gone through, everything they have subjected themselves and everything to come, _this_ is what has caused Wanda the most pain - being without this, without the slide of him within her, without the expression of pure molten _love_ upon his face.

It’s so beautifully familiar, and her mind supplies her with memory after memory of the times they have laid together. Pietro’s face, the shadows over his shoulder, the taste of sweat on his skin. 

There’s red tinting the corners of Wanda’s vision, and she realises she is seeing _herself_ too. Seeing herself through Pietro’s eyes, her hair spilled across the pillows, the shapes of her lips and the heat of her eyes. His memories, and she had not meant to slip within his mind, but when she tries to gather herself, when she tries to withdraw, Pietro shakes his head and holds her tighter.

“Want you to _see_ ,” he moans, hips moving faster now, and so Wanda twirls their minds together, both their memories forming one beautiful tableau, their bodies entwined together as if they do not know how to be apart.

Wanda throws her head back, hand moving between her legs, massaging her clit. 

In her memories, she sees Pietro’s lips there, feels the phantom slide of his mouth upon her, tastes herself within Pietro’s mind.

His arms are shaking, and his thrusts grow more ragged, quicker.

Pietro’s mind retreats before his body does, and Wanda whimpers for the broken connection, grasping at him when he tries to pull back.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he manages to gasp, and Wanda reaches out instinctively, coils of power wrapping around his thighs, his waist.

“You _won’t_ ,” she says fiercely, and the power tightens around him when she moves. Nudging him to his side, and he goes willingly, rolling on to his back so she can take him into her again, sitting upon his lap with the length of his cock filling her so perfectly. 

She spreads her hands across his chest and begins to ride him, her power surging whenever he bucks too wildly, holding him steady. She can feel him shifting below her, _inside_ her, and it grows, minute little movements, until he’s practically _vibrating_ , and Wanda can barely keep her voice in check. Hips rolling, back arching, and Pietro rubs his thumb against her clit, tight little circles that match the circle of her hips.

She comes with a hoarse cry, hot and cold and _trembling_ , the sensations rippling through her, into Pietro, into his mind, and she feels the orgasm echo back at her as he spills within her. Sharing each other’s release, sharing the feeling of chills running down their spines, the tightening of Pietro’s balls, the pulse of Wanda’s cunt. So passionate, so extreme, it leaves Wanda gasping, tipping forward into the safety of Pietro’s arms, and the bed scrapes loudly against the floor as it skids to a halt.

He holds her tight, his breath a fast and steady beat of air against her shoulder, and Wanda only draws back when the bow of her spine begins to grow uncomfortable.

Pietro is flushed, and his fingers slide down her arms to take her hands within his. “Holy shit!” he mutters, and his laughter is surprised and so warm that Wanda can’t help biting her lip against her own grin.

She squeezes his hands, pulls his attention back to her. “Your metabolism?” she asks, her knees pressing into the mattress. “How soon can you go again?”

Pietro’s eyes darken, lips parted, all traces of laughter gone from his face at her question.

She can _feel_ his cock twitch within her, as if in answer. 

Wanda smiles and reaches out into his mind to let him feel it too, let him feel how _good_ it is, and how very much she loves him.


End file.
